It Wasn't A Bird
You never saw anything for a long time. At least, you didn't really see it. Things were always viewed at a surface level, but soon it would get worse. Wandering listlessly was a habit of yours and you did not know how to escape it. You looked at the Grand Canyon and the ocean, yet the awe that these things instilled in others had yet to permeate you. Now life is equally as difficult. Things are very hard because nothing can make you happy. You bought a pet bird to see if it could cheer you up. It did for a while, but eventually its brilliant colors faded to monotonous display of pale blacks and grays in your cynical eyes. You grabbed the bird one day and began to scream. “Why aren't you pretty anymore? Why can't you, or anything else, ease my pain?” you exclaimed. Squawks and paroxysms emanated from the bird as it fell into a frenzy. It ripped your eyes out and you began to bleed. You ran to the phone, or to what you thought was a phone, but it turned out to be a banana. You threw it and it hit the bird, causing him to further mutilate your body. You finally found the phone and dialed 911. After you got your message across, you promptly passed out. Your blindness makes life even more challenging. You literally see nothing good about the world. You visit many beautiful places to no avail. Your mother calls you. “Have you seen the full moon? Isn't it gorgeous? Oh wait... sorry.” she mumbles, contrite. You reply sarcastically, “Yeah, mom. I love to gaze out on serene nights like this one; I can sometimes make out the visage of the churning ocean or of the twisting clouds of a storm.” Your mother then cried and hung up. You cannot see what you did wrong. In fact, you can't see anything at all. However, you can hear very well. Nothing sounds that good, but things certainly sound better than they look. Resentment and regret are your closest friends. Hatred for that fowl accumulates and makes you cross. You wish you could deal pain unto that bird so that it could relate to your suffering. Suddenly, as that thought enters your mind, you hear a strange flapping. You knew that bird had escaped your house that day, but could it have returned? You knew your mother was coming over that day with your uncle, a rare male breast cancer patient, and you would be even more rueful if you allowed that bird to hurt anybody else. You would not allow that to happen. You search frantically for the bird but have no success. The faint flapping sound persists, but it does not reveal its origin. Now you are able to see images of the bird's countenance, calm, collected, and evil, in your mind. Squawks begin and you now know how urgent it is to find the bird. However, your lack of sight impedes your progress. Finally, you feel feathers brush against your face. A strange giggling begins; the giggles bear a semblance to that of a delirious and weak entity. You realize that bird has probably had very little to eat without your care and is probably near death. That will make it an easy target. You grab its neck, ignoring the wrinkled and flesh-like texture, and tighten your grip until it stops breathing. You hold on for a few minutes until you hear a horrific scream from behind. It is your mother. She continues to scream and you try to calm her. She runs from you and enters the kitchen and dials the phone. You are so confused, but an image begins to form in your mind. It is your uncle, clearly choked and lying dead on the ground. “It wasn't a bird! It wasn't a bird!” you scream repeatedly. Immediately you realize what you've done. Tears flow and the police take you away.